


Death Rolls the Dice

by DarkCh1ld



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCh1ld/pseuds/DarkCh1ld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fallon agrees to sell his soul in return for his ex-boyfriend's life after a fatal altercation in an alley, the last thing he expects is to wake the next morning to a man with giant black wings standing in his room. The man—Adam, he calls himself—introduces himself as Death and says Fallon has one month to complete any unfinished business before he goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Rolls the Dice

The first thing Fallon saw when he opened his eyes was blood.

It was caked on his hands and soaked the sheet over his body. He jerked in shock, and then again when pain lit up every nerve ending simultaneously.

“ _Fuck_! What the hell happened to me?”

“I wouldn’t suggest moving. Your body still has to heal,” a deep, rasping voice said from behind him. Fallon painstakingly managed to turn onto his other side, eyes widening when they landed on the figure leaning against the wall.

He was tall, at least six-two if not more, with one piercing white eye and what looked like a burn scar that covered nearly the entire left side of his face. He had shaggy shoulder-length hair that was either jet black with dark blue three quarters of the way down or dark blue with black at the top. From what Fallon could see of his darkly tanned skin—namely just his face, neck, and fingers—there were intricate black tattoos on his skin.

For all intents and purposes, he looked human, but the huge black wings rustling behind him indicated otherwise.

“W-who are you?” Fallon squeaked, hating the fear that crept into his words.

The man sighed and pushed off of the wall, going to the side of Fallon’s bed.

“You don’t remember a thing from yesterday, do you?” he inquired, no emotion in his tone.

Fallon frowned, “No? Should there be something I’m remembering? How did you get into my house? And why am I covered in blood?”

“One question at a time, please, Fallon. I brought you home last night to heal your wounds. The pain is only from the healing process; there should be no more injuries on you.” The man explained, sitting in a chair Fallon hadn’t noticed near the end of the bed. The wings fanned out to avoid being crushed seemingly of their own volition.

“Okay, so let’s say I just accept everything you’ve said as something understandable. What _are_ you?”

The man nodded solemnly, “That’s the question I was waiting for you to ask. As to whom I am, you can call me Adam. What I am, on the other hand, is quite a bit harder to explain. To make a rather long story extremely short, I am Death.”

“Eh?” Fallon stared at the man—Adam—in dumbfounded shock before bursting into hysterical, if pained, laughter, “Oh, that is a _good_ joke! But seriously, the wings, how d’you get them to move like that? Are they robotic?”

Adam sat on the edge of the bed, slapping a wing down onto the sheet, “See for yourself.”

Fallon reached out a tentative hand and buried his fingers in the softest, silkiest feathers he’d ever felt.

“Whoa…they feel so _real_ ,” he whispered, stroking a finger down the leathery skin on the edge of the wing. He felt more than saw the shudder that passed through Adam’s body, brows rising at the reaction. He slid his hand through the downy feathers until he reached the point that the wing seemed to disappear into Adam’s coat, pressing his fingers gently into the joints.

The choked groan that burst from Adam’s throat made him instinctively draw his hand back, staring wide-eyed at the other man. Adam cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to regain his composure before speaking.

“I'll have to ask you not to do that again. They're rather sensitive, especially there.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Fallon gulped and closed his eyes, “okay, so they're real, which means that you're most likely telling the truth. What the fuck _happened_ yesterday?”

Adam moved back to his chair, leaning back and crossing his legs, “You gave me your soul in exchange for another’s. Can you try and recall something from last night?”

Fallon frowned and turned to face the ceiling, wracking his brain for the details he seemed to be missing.

“There was a fight, I think, with some local thugs. I remember confronting them for some reason, but I don't know what happened after that.”

“They attempted to rob you and you fought back. However, you were outnumbered and overpowered. You would have died had Andreas not interfered. He took the beating meant for you and perished as a result.” Adam explained, watching Fallon’s expression morph from confusion to horror in seconds, “When I came to collect his soul, you offered your own in exchange, regardless of the fact that I told you he would have no memory of you afterward.”

Fallon deflated instantly, clutching the sheets like a lifeline.

“So you're here to collect my soul?” he inquired quietly.

“Not just yet. I wouldn't have healed you otherwise. I'm giving you a month to complete any unfinished business before I take your soul. I will remain in your presence until that time, though I will periodically leave to attend to my duties.” Adam shot the human a small smile, “Make these last days count, Fallon.”


End file.
